Queen of Anything
by B and M
Summary: Rick and Michonne discuss their new best friend. Companion piece to King of Anything.
1. Chapter 1

I couldn't help myself, ever since Jadis came on the scene, I've been wanting to do this. This is a companion piece to King of Anything. Hope you enjoy this little nugget!

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Michonne could see his head turn her way out of the corner of her eye, feel his eyes on her, and picture his smug little grin in her head. Only a few hours out from their scavenging mission, and back in the front seats of the battered old van they'd put quite a few more miles on in more ways that one over the past two days, it was all feeling very familiar. And it was for that exact reason that she kept her eyes trained on the empty road ahead of them; because if she looked… _God damn it, Rick._ Now she could hear him quietly snickering to himself; that quiet snorting laugh that she had only recently discovered was still so charming and intoxicating in its newness. She broke down and dragged her eyes his way.

"What's so funny?"

His lips quirked into a smile as he realized he finally managed to grab her attention.

"I was just thinkin' about that thang you did back there…"

She felt her cheeks flush as she rolled her eyes. She knew she shouldn't have looked his way. It was quiet in the van, but they were not alone anymore. She glanced in the rear view mirror to see Tara sitting on floor biting her fingernails, Rosita staring at the bin of guns they had managed to keep, and Father Gabriel looking deep in thought with a faint smile on his face.

"Rick," she warned quietly. Now was not the time for innuendo, especially with a priest of all people sitting within earshot.

He glanced over and arched a questioning eyebrow at her, taking a moment to get what she was saying.

"Not those thangs," he smirked, enjoying the image that she had put back in his mind.

"Then what _thang_ are you talking about?" she asked, mocking his southern drawl.

"That one. But I like it better when you're making fun of Jadis."

"Jadis," she huffed out. "Ezekiel looks and sounds downright normal next to her."

Rick let out a laugh at her deadpan assessment and tossed a quick glance her way before returning his eyes to the road.

"Yeah," he agreed. "I've been accused of being a closed mouth son of a bitch, but I've got nothin' on her."

"Who says that?" Michonne asked, her interest piqued by his admission.

"Just...people," he answered vaguely.

"Mmm," she nodded, deciding to let that one go.

Neither of them were big talkers, except with each other and only just recently. And despite that, even now after a long, exhausting few days and in the presence of an audience, they couldn't seem to keep quiet.

"So what the hell do you think her deal is?"

"What do _you_ think it is?" she asked. She knew what she thought, but she was interested in hearing his take.

"I don't have a damn clue...strange," he decided. "She's just strange."

"Only she's not," Michonne pointed out.

"How do you figure?"

"Because I know her type. Aloof, eccentric for the sake of being eccentric; but take away the clothes and the hair and the affect, and there's really nothing interesting left. It's all appearances," Michonne surmised. "I think you're far more interesting than she is, and she knows it. She's intrigued by Rick Grimes…"

"Nah, I don't think so…"

"Oh come on," Michonne groaned with a grin. "I know you feel it. I mean, I can feel it from ten feet away."

He made a face and shook his head before lifting a hand from the steering wheel to smooth over the grey and brown scruff on his chin.

"You really knew people like her before all this?" he asked incredulously, tilting his head her way.

"Yeah. Too many," she frowned. "But don't you dare try to change the subject on me," she warned as she watched him sigh and squirm a little in the driver's seat which caused her to laugh. "Do you feel it or not?"

He glanced at her again, squinting hard, wondering why she was torturing him like this, because that's what it felt like was torture. But she stared back at him with a little grin daring him to dodge the question again.

"Yes," admitted finally. "But it doesn't mean anything."

"Oh, I know," Michonne assured him, causing him to laugh.

"Then why are you putting me through the wringer like that?"

"Just want to make sure you know where you stand with her."

"Well, I'm more concerned about where I stand with you."

"You know," Michonne grinned.

"Do I?" he asked, without a doubt being intentionally oblivious this time.

"I think you do," she said coyly. "And if not, you will. _Soon_ ," she finished, giving her best Jadis impression.

"Soon?" he repeated, his cheeks now slightly flushed as he smiled broadly at her.

She nodded as she beamed at him before the sound of rustling in the back of the van reminded her that they weren't alone. She turned to look back out the window again, willing herself to behave until they got home. _Soon, but not soon enough_ she thought to herself.


	2. Chapter 2

_I've never seen your face like that_.

Never, in the entire time he'd known her, had he seen her like this. She'd seen him battered and beaten, bloodied and bruised, shaken and completely shattered, more times than he cared to remember, but this was new for him. Almost. There was that first time he'd met her at the gate of the prison, showing up shot and at the brink of exhaustion, but she wasn't one of them yet, didn't own his heart yet, so he didn't feel it like he did now.

Because to know her inside and out like he did after all this time...how much strength she possessed, how resilient she was, how she always came out on top and still had enough left to pull him and others up alongside her...to know that made it all the more difficult to see her like this. She was a warrior, but she was human, and therefore vulnerable. When it was all said and done, though, she still came out on top like always, even if this one took a more out of her than usual.

The blood had been rinsed from her face, but her beautiful brown eyes were still obscured by tense, puffy lids, and the lines of her face were distorted by swelling. The soft setting sun shone through the windows, casting a glow over her face that muted the mottled splashes of red, pink, and purple that covered her skin. Even so, she was still absolutely beautiful, but she wouldn't believe him now if he said so. He just wished he had said it earlier that morning, instead, when he woke to the rising sun casting a glow upon her peaceful, unmarred face as she slept.

The room was quiet, leaving too much time for thinking and overthinking as he was prone to do. The only sound came from their quiet breaths which was the most beautiful sound there could be because it was a reminder that they were alive. He glanced up to find Tara looking his way and gave her a weary nod. She nodded back, acknowledging solidarity in their shared bedside vigils. Then he glanced back down at Michonne, gripping her hand a little tighter in his and smoothing his hand over her forearm. She finally started to stir, her eyes flickering behind their lids, with only the right one being able to open.

"Hey," he whispered softly, relief washing over him as the tension in his brow relaxed and a smile formed on his lips.

She blinked her good eye a few times, taking a little longer to find him and focus on his face than usual, but she did and gave him her best attempt at a grin which was just the subtle twitch of the right corner of her lips followed by a grimace.

"How you feeling?" he asked, his hand still absently stroking her arm as he leaned in closer to her.

"Hungover," she tried to joke in her muffled, raspy voice. "My head...everything hurts."

"I'm sorry."

He found himself wanting to cup her cheek, lean in just a little closer and give her a kiss, but he refrained, not wanting to do more harm than good, and instead kept his hand busy by lightly stroking her arm back and forth.

"You?"

He tilted his head, confused by the show of concern for him until he followed her eye down to his side.

"Ah, it's nothin'," he assured her.

And it was true. He'd had splinters that hurt worse than this; it was just a graze from bullet that wouldn't even leave a scar to add to his collection.

"Carl?"

"Fine," he nodded. "Everybody's fine."

He glanced up to find Tara's eyes on him again, and gave a knowing nod to his mistruth, athen silently asked for her complicity with his eyes. She nodded and looked out the window. Not everyone was fine, but he would save that news for later when she was no longer in a concussed haze. All of her energy needed to go toward her recovery. Then he would tell her absolutely everything, and they would pour through every last detail of the day, at least three or four times, like they always did.

"Just rest," he asked of her now.

"Your face."

He ran his hand over his beard and tilted his head again, wondering if this was the concussion talking now, because he'd had the fortune of showering and changing just before he'd come back to sit with her for the evening, and all was fine as far as he knew, but even a dazed Michonne couldn't be dismissed.

"What about it?"

"I've never seen it like that before. You looked so…" she trailed off, almost humming as she closed her eyes briefly, making him wonder if she was fading back to sleep. "Scandalized," she finally finished, albeit slowly, as she opened her eye again.

 _Which time?_ he wanted to ask, certain that his face had appeared that way at almost any given point she may have seen him during this day from hell.

"I told you she was into you. Not sure why you so were surprised…"

But there was a glint in her eye, and a playful intonation to her voice that made it clear. _Jadis._ She was talking about fucking Jadis.

"It wasn't that," he defended. "I felt like a piece of meat."

Her chest started to heave, and she sucked in a sharp breath as she clutched her stomach with the hand that had been resting on it.

"Ow, ow, ow," she breathed out, having to look away from his handsome face for a moment to literally stop inflicting this pain on herself. Her dead sexy, yet oblivious boyfriend objecting to being objectified. He was too much sometimes. "Don't make me laugh," she pleaded. "Hurts."

"Part of me might have been scared that you were gonna throw me in to sweeten the deal," he admitted.

"As if," she scoffed, turning his hand over on his knee and squeezing it as tightly as she could. "There's no sharing. Not when it comes to you."

"And I'm more than OK with that.." he whispered back with a grin.

He leaned in closer and brought his hand to her forehead, her arm no longer sufficing, and brushed his fingers across it, gently pushing her locs away from her face before leaning in to press a kiss against the one spot that looked untouched. He let his lips linger, savoring the closeness and feel of her soft skin before pulling back slightly to to take her in. She was still here. They were still here. Together.

"You're so beautiful, you know that?"

She stared at him for a moment, and he could feel the objection coming, but then she spoke...

"Hurts to smile, too," she whispered back.

"Then I'll shut up and let you rest," he whispered, leaning in to steal one more kiss before before he grabbed her hand again and resumed his watch at the head of her bed.


End file.
